Friday, November 25, 2011

Passing By




I did but see them, passing by,
Almost weed-like, almost shy.
Growing in unlikely places
With their little orange faces.
Nasturtiums, they grow everywhere;
Rocky, sandy, the don't care.
Casting shadows that are small;
On pavement and on garden wall.
Gardeners search for something rare;
Gardeners tinker and compare,
Using Latin names with pride,
Hoping we'll be mystified.
A gardener hopes to find a rarity
He can nurture for posterity.
He studies every catalogue;
Even every gardening blog,
In the hope that soon he'll claim
A plant to carry-on his name.
But I dedicate this ballad
To leaves that we use in a salad,
And to little orange faces
Spied in unexpected places.



'No smoke without fire' you say,
Well, here I prove you wrong.
Judging by the 'smoke' we see,
The fire should be hot and strong!

1 comment:

Yogi♪♪♪ said...

Flowers, shadows, poems, sky, clouds. I love it all. Thanks,